Salvation

I grew up in the church. I can't remember a time when I wasn't at church. My Mom taught girls group, the G.A.'s, short for Girls Auxiliary, as well as a Sunday School class, so if the doors were open, I was at church.
My Dad, on the other hand, had no time for church. He spoke many times about a salvation experience he'd had as a young boy and laid claim to being a Methodist. We became staunch Southern Baptist eventually coming to rest at Gallant Baptist Church.

I remember that the pastor of Gallant Baptist, Bro. Lewis Woods, came to our school one Friday to lead our morning devotion. He was an older man, early 70's, slight of build but burned with passion for Jesus. He spoke of sin and hell and other things that I was just beginning to understand. I was in the 4th grade. Bro. Woods, at the end of the devotion, began to talk about what "being saved" really meant. As he spoke, I will never forget that my heart began to do strange things. It would beat really fast and I had all these thoughts racing through my 4th grade mind. Sin? Am I a sinner? I mean I had stolen that piece of candy from Pawdy Moore's store, but Mom had made me go back and apologize for my actions. She also made me sweep his store every day for a week, but was I a sinner? Bottom line..........I was. I may not have killed anyone. I may not have been public enemy #1, but had I died that day, there is no doubt in my mind that I would have received hell as my reward.

I remember Bro. Woods asking if anyone wanted to be saved. It was a blur, even to this day, as it was like having an out of body experience. I found myself slipping from my desk and walking to where Bro. Woods was. He shook my hand and hugged me along with others from my class who had come forward. He took us all into the cafeteria and spoke to us about what it meant to be saved and the decision we had just made. I felt light and new and free and different. I couldn't explain what had happened but I knew something had. I couldn't wait to get home to tell Mom and Dad.

My Mother, the daughter of a Baptist minster, was excited and she cried when I told her what had happened. "Your Grand daddy would be so proud of you," she told me. I remember that night, taking our family Bible to bed to read. I was partial to Daniel and lions den. I had to ask Mom to help me find the story. I remember lying there in bed, reading and looking at the picture of painting that help to illustrate the story. There was Daniel standing among 8 lions, hands folded in prayer, face turned to heaven. The thing I remember most about that picture was the look on Daniels face. Peaceful and without fear. "There is a real man," I thought to myself. Any man who could spend the night in a den full of lions and look like that had to be o.k.

Little could I have known where this one act in early 1960 would lead. How could I have known that the little boy in the 4th grade would be lead by the God who saved him into a life of work with people in recovery and addiction. Today I am grateful for everyone who spoke life into me.
Bro. Lewis Woods / Mr. and Mrs. Vivian Phillips / Rev. Don and Venita Gentry / Rev. and Mrs. D. E. Hendrix/ Rev and Mrs. George Creel / Jim Bentley / Winston Kennedy / John and Marilyn Bruce / Lanier and Linda Ellis / W.A. and Geneva Lutes / Charles and JoAnn Bryson / My Mother, Florene Bynum / John Wimber/ Keith Green / and countless others that may have slipped my mind this early morning. I am who I am today because of the grace of God and the people he put in my life at different points, to speak to me and point me in the right direction.

God on you.......
mb